I Loved a Killer
by chichi-tree
Summary: Love is like a drug; like ecstasy. Although you know it is bad for you, you still take it for the happiness it gives you. Love was when I first met a killer, my lover, Syaoran Li.


I Loved a Killer  
  
Love is like a drug; like ecstasy. Although you know it is bad for you, you still take it for the happiness it gives you. Love was when I first met a killer, my lover, Syaoran Li. It was the sixteenth of May 1995 in Paris, the city of romance. I was standing on the wharf, staring at the moonlit water and savouring the night air when I met him. I was standing alone, absent-minded when suddenly, his deep, charming voice broke over the sound of the lapping waves. "Beautiful night tonight, isn't it?" he had said. "Yes," I replied in a surprised tone. I took a glance at him: neat dark hair, gentle brown eyes and an attractive smile upon a well-defined, masculine face. From that night onwards, I kept on bumping into him in the street and soon we got to know each other very well. He would usually come over to my place where we sat, drank and laughed. Once, when he was over, he confessed how much he loved me and I told him I had adored him also. From then on, we were like one of the many smitten couples in Paris. Syaoran and I would walk arm in arm through the park and sit on the beach to watch the fiery, glowing sunset. However, soon I found out that I was wrong about us. Syaoran kept on receiving emergent phone calls and ran away without much explanation. When I asked him what it was about, he'd get angry and annoyed. On one particular day when Syaoran ordinarily received another call he told me that he had some urgent business and ran off. I, feeling unrelenting suspicion, followed him silently to a rusty iron shed near the wharf where we first met. I started wondering why Syaoran would go to such a place but when I was faced with the truth, I felt as if my heart had been torn and shredded apart. In the shed, I discovered a dead body stained with blood. His eyes gazed blankly in agony and helplessness. The sight flooded my eyes with tears and I ran to the wharf. I collapsed down onto its wooden floor. Why? Why did I have to love a killer? I was bewildered, overwhelmed with sorrow and had cried myself to sleep on the warmth of the floor. I woke to the sound of the gentle splashing of the waves. It was dark. I hauled myself up and walked home dispirited and in a quandary of what had happened. As I reached the front door of my house, I noticed that the lights were on inside and hurriedly opened the lock. To my surprise, Syaoran had set up a candlelight dinner for us. He approached me with an ever so innocent and sweet smile, in such a way that I could not help myself feel happy and relaxed in his presence. When Syaoran left after dinner, I sat down beside the fire in weariness. The next day, I decided to go to the restaurant down town for dinner. When I took my seat, I saw that Syaoran was in the restaurant too and was with a man. They seemed to be talking and joking so I didn't bother go over and disturb them. They left together after a while and soon afterwards when I had finished my meal, I decided to walk home and catch a breath of the night air. The moon overhead was low and bright but still, the streets seemed dark and dim. As I reached the end of rue de la Croix, I caught a glimpse of Syaoran and ran to catch up with him but my foot tripped over something on the ground. I picked myself up and brushed the dirt from my clothes when I noticed, under the dim light of the street lamp, a stained patch of red on my blouse. I cast my eyes to the ground where I tripped over and screamed at the scene of a brutally bashed and bloodied body of the man Syaoran was with. My feet were rooted to the ground in shock and horror. Syaoran. why?. again?. Suddenly from the distance, I heard a faint wailing of a police car. My mind was spinning. What do I do?.Where do I go?. What should I say? But, it was too late. The police had reached me and were already clambering out of their car. I was taken to gaol for the murder of man because the police found Syaoran's dagger on the ground. So, I was accused for the man's death and sentenced for life in a cold dank prison, all alone. A year had passed and on the morning of May 1996, I wrote a letter to Syaoran:  
  
My dearest Love,  
  
It has been a very long time since I was last in your arms. I have questioned myself over and over again whether I had lived in a dream when I was in love with you or whether that love was real but was never meant for us. Because, right now, I am in gaol for the murder you committed and somehow I am wistful to suffer for you. Is that because I am still in love with you? Your love is like a drug; like an alluring poison that I have taken and have been addicted to its every flavour. Although I knew it was lethal to my life, I was willing to drink it for the happiness it brought. Your love is like a drug, and I am the one who took it, the one who loved a killer. 


End file.
